Bomb319
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Nov 26, 2011
- Messages
- 583
The jackpot of all jackpots....the thing you hear about, but NEVER, EVER happens to you (or me) just actually happened to me. Here's what happened:
I bought over a gram of the best H (fent of course now) in town. It's the strongest, cleanest, and I spent well over a hundred and fifty dollars for it. It was a chunk of rock which I split into several pieces (n.b. are pics allowed here, or a bad idea? I can always edit later, but I don't want to break any rules. Besides, it's just purple chunks of substance, so I'm sure that description will suffice).
So naturally, I went on a bender that night - alternating between it and crack, with etizolam (DO NOT ATTEMPT THIS YOURSELF. I HAVE ALWAYS HAD THE OPIOID TOLERANCE OF A BULL ELEPHANT. IF MOST OPIATE NAIVE PEOPLE TRIED THIS, THEY WOULD DIE. PLEASE DO NOT MIX ANY DRUGS UNLESS YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU'RE DOING, UNLESS YOU WANT TO BECOME PART OF AN INCREASINGLY TRAGIC STATISTIC. I TAKE 160 MG METHADONE DAILY, HAVE TRIED PRETTY MUCH EVERY DRUG SINCE 2007, AND HAVE BEEN THROUGH PHARMACY SCHOOL AND ORGANIC CHEMISTRY. I'm really sorry if I sound preachy, but I simply cannot make this post without this disclaimer first. Even if you're careful, you likely know the pain and suffering of withdrawal.)
Anyway, I spent a fortune on this strong, amazing stuff. Smoked off foil only - I refuse to IV anymore, and I only recently relapsed after being clean since 2014. I feel enormously guilty about that part. But that's another story. It was almost morning, and I was exhausted. The last memory I have was being about to fall asleep, in my bedroom near where I was smoking. As I said, I broke my rocks up into slightly smaller pieces since a piece the size of a grain of rice is enough for a strong high, smoked, even with my 160 mg methadone tolerance.
I woke up and it was gone. No trace, no clues. I live alone in an apartment, and did not go anywhere else that night/day (around 4-5 am or so). You'd assume I finished it and blacked out, wouldn't you? And so would I. Except one thing was bugging me - I definitely remember making a special Rx bottle to hold/hide it. I taped up the clear parts so you couldn't see inside, and I wrote on it. When I woke up, there was no bottle either. Hmmm.....definitely odd. I look through my garbage in my room, and sure enough - I DO INDEED find an empty Rx bottle, only WITHOUT the extra tape and stuff. This is a bit complicated since I did the same thing with two other Rx bottles. Otherwise, I obviously would've known for sure the bottle at least was missing as well. But I transfer my shit between bottles all the time, and that MAY have been it. But I was pretty sure it wasn't. That, plus my habit of finding new and unusual places to stash my stuff whenever I leave, not to mention actually smoking all that should've made me very sick, made me really suspicious that I must have simply done the same thing - stash it somewhere in my apartment as my memory and wakefulness were rapidly fading.
The lack of closure was the worst part. I've gone through terrible opiate WD before and amazingly found an unopened bindle of a point or two (back when it was REAL heroin, and good quality), and that of course can't really compare to this; It was bugging the hell out of me, but I was never close to withdrawal. After checking my usual hidey-holes, I realized it was nowhere to be found. I began to tear up my apartment, room by room - nothing, Under the vent. Above the kitchen cupboards and especially my bedroom closet top where I hid most of my things. Nothing. So I started to assume that maybe the comments of others were indeed correct - that I simply don't remember using the rest of it. (When I was on Zopiclone, I somehow, for some reason, hid a package of imitation crab meat in my electronics closet of all places. When I stumbled upon it 3 months later, It had blown up like a fucking puffer fish, and nearly exploded. That should give you some idea of what I mean when I say it could've been literally ANYWHERE).
So from time-to-time, I kept looking. New places. Odd places. Certainly places I'd never thing to look normally, like the inside of a soup pot inside my kitchen cupboard.
I'm sure you see where this is heading, by the topic title and the fact that I created it in the first place. I figured that if I were right and the chunks were actually inside that bottle and I had simply sleep-hidden it in a very odd place, there was still a shot at finding it, although near zero after going through everything of mine you can imagine, including mounds of plastic bags for recycling. Whenever I consciously hid it, it was always in my bedroom, too. Above the kitchen cabinets, there are two small drawers - the kind used for envelopes, stamps, scrap paper, etc. Both of them are stuffed with old receipts, notices, other old junk,etc. I scoured drawer 1 to see if I could find anything. Nothing. Drawer number 2 was full to the top with old letters and product manuals. Nothing.
I stuck my hand further toward the back of drawer 2 and felt some items there: a deck of playing cards, and.....SOMETHING that sure as hell felt to me like a prescription bottle. I closed my eyes, and with bated breath, pulled it out - knowing that it simply could NOT be anything other than what I was looking for, since I NEVER use that drawer except to stuff mail into and move on. So trembling slightly and knowing it was too good to be true, as I had repeatedly gotten my hopes up several times before, I pulled it out........
It was indeed a prescription bottle - and one that had been taped all around to conceal the inside. I look inside, and the shock that shot through me was better than the high from any drug (Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but still). There they were - all the purple chunks of glory and all untouched from when I last remember using them. I actually found them. I actually yelled out loud: NO. FUCKING. WAY. Perfect timing too, as I'm currently out of cash and just want a good night's sleep. I still can't believe I actually found them, and remember, those babies were worth about $150 to me. That's what was bugging me more than anything else. Of course I know they would've been long gone by now had I not somehow passed out and slept-walked my way into the kitchen where I hid a stash of strong opiates in a drawer I literally never use. It's the CLOSURE that I appreciate most. I KNEW I had a special bottle for them, that I never used them, and I was right. I'm always EXTREMELY CAREFUL when I use, and especially with fentanyl which is obviously NO JOKE. Neither I nor sleepwalking I would've risked using all of that at once, even without the needle. I'm still honestly in shock, I think. At this point, I thought that either I mistook the bottle they were in and I did indeed use them, blacked out after using most or all of them, or scattered them outside the bottle somewhere I'd never find them or flushed them in my sleepwalking guilt, or else hid the bottle and its contents in some unusual place for some reason - which I did indeed do. The feeling of finding such a relatively large stash you had mostly given up on is sure something.
tl;dr: Had H/fent, thought I lost it, found it a week later in very unusual place after sleepwalking.
I bought over a gram of the best H (fent of course now) in town. It's the strongest, cleanest, and I spent well over a hundred and fifty dollars for it. It was a chunk of rock which I split into several pieces (n.b. are pics allowed here, or a bad idea? I can always edit later, but I don't want to break any rules. Besides, it's just purple chunks of substance, so I'm sure that description will suffice).
So naturally, I went on a bender that night - alternating between it and crack, with etizolam (DO NOT ATTEMPT THIS YOURSELF. I HAVE ALWAYS HAD THE OPIOID TOLERANCE OF A BULL ELEPHANT. IF MOST OPIATE NAIVE PEOPLE TRIED THIS, THEY WOULD DIE. PLEASE DO NOT MIX ANY DRUGS UNLESS YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU'RE DOING, UNLESS YOU WANT TO BECOME PART OF AN INCREASINGLY TRAGIC STATISTIC. I TAKE 160 MG METHADONE DAILY, HAVE TRIED PRETTY MUCH EVERY DRUG SINCE 2007, AND HAVE BEEN THROUGH PHARMACY SCHOOL AND ORGANIC CHEMISTRY. I'm really sorry if I sound preachy, but I simply cannot make this post without this disclaimer first. Even if you're careful, you likely know the pain and suffering of withdrawal.)
Anyway, I spent a fortune on this strong, amazing stuff. Smoked off foil only - I refuse to IV anymore, and I only recently relapsed after being clean since 2014. I feel enormously guilty about that part. But that's another story. It was almost morning, and I was exhausted. The last memory I have was being about to fall asleep, in my bedroom near where I was smoking. As I said, I broke my rocks up into slightly smaller pieces since a piece the size of a grain of rice is enough for a strong high, smoked, even with my 160 mg methadone tolerance.
I woke up and it was gone. No trace, no clues. I live alone in an apartment, and did not go anywhere else that night/day (around 4-5 am or so). You'd assume I finished it and blacked out, wouldn't you? And so would I. Except one thing was bugging me - I definitely remember making a special Rx bottle to hold/hide it. I taped up the clear parts so you couldn't see inside, and I wrote on it. When I woke up, there was no bottle either. Hmmm.....definitely odd. I look through my garbage in my room, and sure enough - I DO INDEED find an empty Rx bottle, only WITHOUT the extra tape and stuff. This is a bit complicated since I did the same thing with two other Rx bottles. Otherwise, I obviously would've known for sure the bottle at least was missing as well. But I transfer my shit between bottles all the time, and that MAY have been it. But I was pretty sure it wasn't. That, plus my habit of finding new and unusual places to stash my stuff whenever I leave, not to mention actually smoking all that should've made me very sick, made me really suspicious that I must have simply done the same thing - stash it somewhere in my apartment as my memory and wakefulness were rapidly fading.
The lack of closure was the worst part. I've gone through terrible opiate WD before and amazingly found an unopened bindle of a point or two (back when it was REAL heroin, and good quality), and that of course can't really compare to this; It was bugging the hell out of me, but I was never close to withdrawal. After checking my usual hidey-holes, I realized it was nowhere to be found. I began to tear up my apartment, room by room - nothing, Under the vent. Above the kitchen cupboards and especially my bedroom closet top where I hid most of my things. Nothing. So I started to assume that maybe the comments of others were indeed correct - that I simply don't remember using the rest of it. (When I was on Zopiclone, I somehow, for some reason, hid a package of imitation crab meat in my electronics closet of all places. When I stumbled upon it 3 months later, It had blown up like a fucking puffer fish, and nearly exploded. That should give you some idea of what I mean when I say it could've been literally ANYWHERE).
So from time-to-time, I kept looking. New places. Odd places. Certainly places I'd never thing to look normally, like the inside of a soup pot inside my kitchen cupboard.
I'm sure you see where this is heading, by the topic title and the fact that I created it in the first place. I figured that if I were right and the chunks were actually inside that bottle and I had simply sleep-hidden it in a very odd place, there was still a shot at finding it, although near zero after going through everything of mine you can imagine, including mounds of plastic bags for recycling. Whenever I consciously hid it, it was always in my bedroom, too. Above the kitchen cabinets, there are two small drawers - the kind used for envelopes, stamps, scrap paper, etc. Both of them are stuffed with old receipts, notices, other old junk,etc. I scoured drawer 1 to see if I could find anything. Nothing. Drawer number 2 was full to the top with old letters and product manuals. Nothing.
I stuck my hand further toward the back of drawer 2 and felt some items there: a deck of playing cards, and.....SOMETHING that sure as hell felt to me like a prescription bottle. I closed my eyes, and with bated breath, pulled it out - knowing that it simply could NOT be anything other than what I was looking for, since I NEVER use that drawer except to stuff mail into and move on. So trembling slightly and knowing it was too good to be true, as I had repeatedly gotten my hopes up several times before, I pulled it out........
It was indeed a prescription bottle - and one that had been taped all around to conceal the inside. I look inside, and the shock that shot through me was better than the high from any drug (Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but still). There they were - all the purple chunks of glory and all untouched from when I last remember using them. I actually found them. I actually yelled out loud: NO. FUCKING. WAY. Perfect timing too, as I'm currently out of cash and just want a good night's sleep. I still can't believe I actually found them, and remember, those babies were worth about $150 to me. That's what was bugging me more than anything else. Of course I know they would've been long gone by now had I not somehow passed out and slept-walked my way into the kitchen where I hid a stash of strong opiates in a drawer I literally never use. It's the CLOSURE that I appreciate most. I KNEW I had a special bottle for them, that I never used them, and I was right. I'm always EXTREMELY CAREFUL when I use, and especially with fentanyl which is obviously NO JOKE. Neither I nor sleepwalking I would've risked using all of that at once, even without the needle. I'm still honestly in shock, I think. At this point, I thought that either I mistook the bottle they were in and I did indeed use them, blacked out after using most or all of them, or scattered them outside the bottle somewhere I'd never find them or flushed them in my sleepwalking guilt, or else hid the bottle and its contents in some unusual place for some reason - which I did indeed do. The feeling of finding such a relatively large stash you had mostly given up on is sure something.
tl;dr: Had H/fent, thought I lost it, found it a week later in very unusual place after sleepwalking.
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